


Missives from Amaranthine

by ravendas



Category: Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Letters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 05:18:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13380978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravendas/pseuds/ravendas
Summary: Just a fun little collection of letters sent between King Alistair and his wife during the events of Awakening.





	1. Chapter 1

Dearest husband,

Thank you ever so much for your visit to Vigil’s Keep yesterday. With everything that happened, having you there…if even for such a short time…was comforting. Especially, since I should have guessed that what was supposed to be just a brief official visit on both our parts has turned into the usual catastrophe. Fighting darkspawn without you at my side seems strange. But, don’t worry, I will manage. Our new Grey Wardens are an odd lot, but…well, no moreso than everyone else we found ourselves running around the country with, eh?

Oghren won’t stop pestering me about our….private life. Keeps asking if I’ve taught you any “new tricks”…and wants to give me “advice” on various…positions. Ugh. Even so, it’s nice to have a familiar face around…even if it’s not the first face I’d want to see.

The apostate mage, Anders, is a rather amusing sort. He has plenty of interesting anecdotes about Circle life. Sort of the “things most Circle mages won’t tell you”. If Wynne were here, I’m sure she’d be either turning a few different shades of red or smacking him with her staff…or both. Between him and Oghren, I think I can count on one hand the number of conversations they’ve had that **weren’t** about sex. (Which I must admit, makes me miss you all that much more.)

I’m terribly sorry about Mhairi. Why is it that the most enthusiastic ones are the ones who don’t make it? Something in her reminded me of Jory. At least she had the courage to go through with the Joining (though I can’t fault Jory for his actions, as tragic as it turned out). Her body will be sent back to Denerim and I know you will take care all the “official Grey Warden” explanations to her family.

I’m sincerely hoping and praying to the Maker that this darkspawn incursion won’t take long to clean up. But, of course, knowing my luck, it will be far too long until I am able to come home to you. Until then, please try not to worry too much. You have an entire country to deal with. Smacking around a few darkspawn is barely a warm-up compared to all we’ve been through, right?

I’ll keep you updated, I promise.

All of my love,

Your wife, Queen, and (apparently now) Warden-Commander

\-------------------------

Darling,

You know that letter didn’t make me feel any better, right? Or, I mean, it did. It’s nice hearing from you. Please don’t get me wrong. Don’t stop writing! I just hate that you’re having to deal with this alone. Or rather, without me. I guess we both thought that this whole “King and Queen of Ferelden” thing would mean we'd get to settle down in Denerim, reclining on soft cushions, eating fine cheese all day and working on making that heir all night.

Speaking of which, how in the world are we supposed to accomplish that while you keep getting sent away?! I know, probably partially my fault there. I didn’t know that your “official visit” would end up being yet another round of “Save the World from Darkspawn”. If it wasn’t for all this political...idiocy…going on in the Bannorn, I’d be right there with you. Or, maybe not, since Eamon probably wouldn’t let me. Who’s King around here anyway?

Don’t worry about Mhairi. I’m already well-versed in giving the “official” lines from all the side-stepping I had to do after the whole “surviving the death of the Archdemon” thing. She’ll get the proper honors befitting a Grey Warden.

Good luck with everything. I mean it. I know you can handle yourself just fine. It’s one of the many, many, many reasons I love you.

Forever yours,

Your husband, King, and slave to your every whim (Don’t write that last part. Wait…did you write that?! Ugh…)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ysara recruits Nathaniel and Alistair enjoys messing with his scribe.

Dear Alistair,

“Slave to my every whim”, eh? I’ll have to remember that when I get back, you know. And I have it here in writing, so you can’t squirm out of it.

We acquired a new Warden recruit today and you won’t believe who it is: Nathaniel Howe, Arl Howe’s eldest son! Apparently he’d been languishing down in the dungeon after trying to break into the castle to steal back some of his family’s things (oh, and he was planning to kill me as well). I know you’re probably wondering why I just didn’t put a blade in his chest. Sometimes I wonder that too. But, after talking to him at length, I realized that he didn’t know what kind of monster his father had become. He’d been away, squiring in the Free Marches for the past eight years. All he knew was that his father was dead, his family was disgraced, and the entire Arling had been handed over to the Grey Wardens and, by extension, to me…the person who murdered his father. So, I can’t say I blame him for being angry. I was in his position not that long ago, thanks to his father.

So, we talked…a lot…and got things settled somewhat between us. Though I know he still rankles at the fact that we essentially took his home away from him. I’m going to talk to Varel, our seneschal if you recall, about maybe establishing Nathaniel in some sort of official capacity in the Arling. It technically was his, after all. And I certainly have no desire to add “Arl of Amaranthine” to my titles. Not to mention, it does seem uncomfortably like I’m making a power grab. First I pretty much make myself Queen, now I’m an Arl as well? Even I can see that won’t be too well-received by more than a few.

But, enough politics. The darkspawn don’t seem to be dying out any time soon around here (as I suspected), so unfortunately, it seems I’ll be here for a while. (It doesn’t help that Varel has me trying to settle every dispute in the Arling on top of everything else.) We’ve received a few reports of a possible breeding ground as well as strangeness going on in the Wending Wood and Blackmarsh. So, it looks like I’ll be taking my new recruits out for some exploring. One good thing about having Nathaniel around is that he knows the area well, so there’s that at least.

I need to end this for now. Varel is giving me the impatient look, so I’m assuming there’s some “crisis” that needs tending to…again. Now I’m beginning to realize why you didn’t want to be King. It has to be so much worse, all the nonsense you are expected to solve. Just one more reason for me to get this darkspawn problem solved quickly: so I can get back to you and help ease some of that burden.

You are always in my thoughts and dreams,

Love, Ysara

\-----------------------

My little minx,

You know, I’m both dreading and anticipating what your devious mind is thinking of. I suppose I deserve it after forgetting that these scribes write down absolutely everything I say when I’m writing to you. Makes me want to see if I can make them blush by talking dirty. Maybe about that time at the lake when you and I went skinny-dipping and you did that thing with your mouth…oh ho! He’s turning red! And he’s writing all of this down. I knew it.

Nathaniel Howe, eh? Well, I’d say that I hope you know what you’re doing, but I already know that you do. It’s not the first time you’ve snagged up someone who tried to kill you. Just as long as you don’t….you know…like with Zevran. I know you wouldn’t! Please don’t kill me! That was before we were married or were really...anything! Besides, a Howe….ugh, I can’t even imagine you’d even think about it. I’m sorry for even bringing it up. Bad Alistair.

And here I thought you had the easier job of the two of us, but darkspawn and politics? My poor girl. Just for that, I’m sending along a little something that I hope will help get you through it. Make sure to let me know that you’ve received it. Can’t say the courier won’t be tempted to drink it himself.

At least you do have darkspawn to go beat on when the politics get too bad. I only get practice dummies in the yard. Even the weapons master isn’t a challenge because I’m King now and it wouldn’t do to have me laid out in the yard by a stray smack in the head with a practice sword…or some such nonsense. Though I can’t say that he wouldn’t mind smacking me in the head a few times. I’m sure Eamon would like it if he did.

And I sound like a sulky 10-year-old, don’t I? It’s what happens when you’re not here. I miss you something awful. Sometimes I want to just tear this stupid crown off my head, get on a horse and ride to Amaranthine to find you. Then we can take down these darkspawn together like we used to and then run off to be just some common married couple living on a farm somewhere. But, we’d get bored, wouldn’t we? Ah well, it’s nice to dream sometimes I suppose.

Speaking of dreams, you haven’t had any of the Blight dreams have you? Maker help us if there’s another archdemon out there. I haven’t, so I’m hoping it’s nothing. Thankfully, all of my dreams have been…well, definitely non-darkspawn related and more related to “what I’m going to do when you finally get back home”. Ahem….my scribe’s blushing again. I guess I should finish this before we both have our minds going places.

All of my love,

Your ever-adoring husband, Alistair


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wine and memories...

Dearest Alistair,

You cannot know just how welcome your gift has been! It came at just the perfect time, to be honest, for I honestly cannot think of any time where I have been in more dire need of a good bottle of wine than now. (Though Oghren has stated on more than one occasion that something much, much stronger would have been preferred. I won’t say whether or not I actually agree, but will just fill you in on how things have been here and let you make your own determination.)

First, the perhaps not-so-bad: we ventured into the city today to check on a few things (which, as usual, turned into more than a few things). We ran into Wynne, of all people! She’s doing well and was on her way to Cumberland for some sort of mage conference. She gives you all her love and told me to remind you of “that little talk I had with him in camp that one night on the way to Orzammar…he’ll know the one I mean”. So, I guess you know what she’s talking about, because I don’t.

We also met up with another Howe: Nathaniel’s sister, Delilah. She seems a decent enough sort. Apparently, she ran off to the city and got married to some merchant just to get away from her father. Makes me wonder how such a scum-pustule of a man ended up with halfway-decent children.

Now…for the not-so-good. I’m not sure if I should even be telling you this, but I’m afraid that it’s going to get back to you eventually and I’d rather you hear about it from me than some Chantry Mother with a grudge. You remember Ser Rylock? The Templar woman who was trying to get Anders back to the Circle? Well, it seems she decided to ignore your orders and attempted to take him into custody again. Regrettably, when I refused to let her take him, she attacked us and I was forced to kill her. I know this will cause issues with the Chantry when it gets out and I’m sorry. She honestly gave me no choice in the matter.

And I haven’t mentioned darkspawn yet, have I? That’s because I’ve been too busy fending off conspiracies among the nobles (no surprise, considering there had to be at least a few in Rendon Howe’s pocket), chasing down smugglers, and hand-holding dwarven masons who are telling me that there is a gaping hole in the Keep’s basement leading straight to the Deep Roads! I guess now we know where some of the darkspawn came from anyway.

Did I mention how much I really appreciate that bottle of wine? Ugh, I really miss you right now. It’s been one of those days where I really just need to curl up with you and fall asleep with your arms around me. Well, maybe after a little attempt at making that heir everyone wants. Which, of course, has been the subject of most of my dreams as well. Perhaps we could…share stories? Or would your scribe’s head completely explode?

I suppose I’ll have to content myself with the memory of that evening when we found the hot springs near the camp…and what happened after. (And, no, not the time that Zevran decided to just…show up. The other time. You know the one.)

Sweet dreams my love.

Yours always,

Ysara

\--------------------------

Darling,

You know that you are a very, very, very bad woman? I made the mistake of reading that letter before I had to meet with Bann Alfstanna. Do you know how incredibly difficult it is to concentrate on matters of state when I can’t stop thinking about….that?! For all I know, I promised her an armada of ships to fight off raiders (maybe I did, damnation, I can’t remember). As much of a hard time as I give Eamon, it’s times like this that I’m glad he’s there to…well, pick up my slack. Hey, stop sniggering! Not you, love, the bedamned scribe. I’m going to write my own letters from now on!

Now, what was I saying? Oh yes, was talking about me, but I’d rather talk about you. I hope that Varlen is helping you with some of the more trivial issues. He does know that you’re there to kill darkspawn, right? Not take over the Arling.

I’ll do what I can to smooth things out with the Chantry. I cannot believe Rylock flaunted the Right of Conscription! I knew she was somewhat…obsessed…with bringing Anders in, but that just goes too far. I can only hope that the word of the Hero of Fereldan will be enough. I can see if Knight-Commander Greagoir will put in a word in your defense. He probably knew Rylock…and he had to have known Anders, so….we’ll figure this out. Don’t worry.

If you see Wynne again, give her my love and tell her that, no I don’t think that I will ever forget our “little talk”. It’s permanently etched into my brain like any other highly-traumatic event would be. If it’s the talk I think she’s referring to. If not, then…well, just tell her I remember. She won’t believe me either way.

I’ll see what I can do as far as sending along something stronger. I can’t have my lovely Queen fighting off darkspawn while deep in her cups, can I? Or then again, I’ve seen you drunk. You might actually manage to scare them off. Especially if you start singing. Please don’t kill me! You know it’s true…and I still love you. I really do. More than anything. Even when you’re drunk…and singing.

Stay strong, my raven-haired temptress.

All of my love,

Alistair


End file.
